


The Seven Swords

by ivyraine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Exfiances, F/M, I suck at tagging, One shot?, slight angst, speakeasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:16:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28541664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyraine/pseuds/ivyraine
Summary: Hidden in the heart of Viseyna’s Hill, the speakeasy blended in with all the commotion in 1923, King’s Landing. Taxi horns covered up the jazz music that was at full volume. Billboards brought attention to its advertisements rather than flashes of light that came from under Littlefinger’s Laundromat.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	The Seven Swords

**Author's Note:**

> the 20s is my favorite decade and this idea just came to me this story definitely has a lot more context to it that i just didn’t want to write but either way hope you enjoy!

_The Seven Swords_ was under a laundromat. 

Hidden in the heart of Viseyna’s Hill, the speakeasy blended in with all the commotion in 1923, King’s Landing. Taxi horns covered up the jazz music that was at full volume. Billboards brought attention to its advertisements rather than flashes of light that came from under Littlefinger’s Laundromat. And the crowds that banned together to fill up the streets kept the police from noticing a select few slipping from under their noses to a whole other world underground. 

Brienne was not in her element. The dress she borrowed from her local thrift shop clung to her curves so tightly, it felt like the material was slowly cracking every rib in her chest. But as much as it made her uncomfortable, she knew it emphasized the light blonde of her short hair and the blue in her irises. It was the perfect weapon for any area of persuasion.

The dress was a light blue that blended into a shade of lavender towards the bottom fringe. The material ended just below her knees, allowing the breeze that flew through the door of Lingerfinger’s Laundromat to chill her lower legs. The grey glimmer that shone at her chest reflected against the dim lights brightly as she carefully slipped through a hidden bookcase at the back of the laundromat. The bouncer let her in easily and gave her a wink that showed his approval of her dress. 

But as brightly as she shone, Brienne still felt invisible. If this were any other night, she would have been curled up in front of the fire with a history novel, listening to the rustle of the city instead of being a part of it. She hated the night life in King’s Landing. It was full of con artists trying to fill their empty lives with false fame and she wouldn’t have any part of it. Her father may own Tarth Industries, but that didn’t mean she had to take part in high society.

Standing in the middle of the illegal speakeasy, she clutched her purse tightly under her arm and scanned the room. _The Seven Swords_ was screaming with color. Everywhere she looked there was another shade of dark red or bright orange to make the seating area pop or the bar area dazzle. People were dressed in hues of deep pink, royal blue, and a soft orange to make a statement. The band on the stage bounced along with its rhythm; the singer sang a little out of tune; men were dancing a little too close to the women; and drinks were being poured everywhere she turned. 

A handsome waiter with a neat navy blue blazer and dark curly hair had offered Brienne a glass of sparkling champagne but she turned him down. She was here for one thing tonight and a little bubbly wasn’t going to distract her. 

Brienne’s older brother, Galladon, had disappeared two weeks ago. He had left her a letter apologizing that he had to leave. Normally Brienne wouldn’t be too shocked to receive a letter of such context from her brother, but this one struck her differently. The penmanship was messy when his lettering was usually neat, his words were rushed when they usually gave her reassurance of his safety, and he signed it _Galladon_ when he normally signed it _Gal_. 

He wrote her letters all the time to instruct her of his absence. Galladon was an infamous boxer that sometimes went days underground until he finished a tournament. Brienne was proud of her brother, even though she hated the idea of Claude in such a dangerous predicament, because he always seemed to win. He would come back from his matches bright and bubbly, explaining his technique and when exactly he knew he took his opponent down. She loved the light that shone in his bright blue eyes when he told her of his victories. 

But mostly she listened because when he was telling her his stories, he was allowing her to live vicariously through him. She was jealous of his right to fight. She wanted to be the one to take down opponents, to watch the fear in their eyes before she charges at them. But she was proud of her brother for pursuing his dreams now because soon he would take over their father’s oil company and his stories would only be a memory. 

Galladon was the only thing constant in Brienne’s life. He was the one thing that Brienne knew she could count on. So she knew once Galladon was gone for more than a few days and still hadn’t contacted her, something was wrong. Brienne wasn’t going to sit back and do nothing. She was going to figure out what happened to her brother. He never abandoned her and she wasn’t about to abandon him. 

“Little uncomfortable there, Miss?”

Brienne jumped backwards, startled by the voice. Her dress hiked up her leg and goosebumps started to appear on her forearms when she looked up to see familiar gleaming green eyes staring back at her, “I–I–No.” She brushed off her dress, staring down at the dirty floor. “I’m perfectly comfortable, thank you very much.” 

Jaime Lannister furrowed his golden eyebrows, scanning her appearance while having a dangerous grin sprawled out across his face. He was wearing a three piece navy blue suit with wide lapels and high rise cuffed trousers. His legs were crossed so the tip of his right shiny black shoe was resting comfortably over his left one and his head was turned lopsided. “Hi Brienne. It’s nice to see you face to face. It’s been a while.” 

She lifted her chin to try and evoke some sort of confidence even though internally her heart was beating too quickly for her liking. “It hasn’t been long enough.” She didn’t want to play nice with Jaime even though she knew she had too. She didn’t have many resources at her hand to help find her brother, so for the first time in her life, she stepped out of her comfort zone and rang Jaime. 

She hadn’t spoken to him since he ended their engagement. 

She explained that she wasn’t phoning because she missed him, even though she did. Jaime knew about Galladon’s letters and his life as a boxer. Jaime would sometimes go to Galladon’s games and cheer him on. They grew close in the time that Jaime and Brienne were together and she was always grateful for their relationship. Jaime was the one who asked her to come to _The Seven Swords_. He said that there might be someone there who could help them but he couldn’t talk about it over the phone. It was the first light of hope Brienne had in weeks so she swallowed her fear of high society and that’s how she found herself in the middle of the crowded speakeasy with laughter and music surrounding her.

Jaime let out a little laugh that Brienne wasn’t expecting, his sharp jaw loosening. She hated how easy this was for him. He looked so relaxed in this setting where Brienne felt like jumping out of her dress and running back to her cozy flat. “Let’s get a drink.” 

Brienne did not want a drink. She wanted to ask a million questions, “I don’t think a drink is a good idea.” 

Jaime shook with an amusing laugh as he stuffed his hands into his pockets, “Ever the lug, Brienne, if I can remember correctly.” He turned his back towards her, leaving her jaw gaped, and waved over one of the bartenders before starting to stroll over to the wooden bar. 

Brienne followed closely behind him ready to defend herself. She squeezed through a crowd of men and women twirling along with the band on the stage before she reached him, “I’m not a lug.” She hissed in his ear as he started to lean his shoulder on the bar. “I just want to talk with a clear conscience. Nothing to deteriorate my judgement.”

Jaime blinked, frozen for a moment and then got the bartender’s attention, “That, sweetheart, is the definition of a lug.” He muttered to Brienne before he turned to the man behind the bar holding a bottle of bourbon. He had a grey rag thrown over his white button down shirt with a black bow tie pinned to the collar. 

Jaime flashed the bartender a sweet smile, “A martini for the Miss and a whiskey ginger for myself?” He placed three dragons on the bar. 

“Sure thing, sir.” The man said, nodding politely towards Brienne. Jaime hopped on the barstool adjacent to the bar and motioned for Brienne to follow. Gritting her teeth together, she jumped up as well, smoothing her skirt once she was situated. 

“I don’t want a drink, Jaime,” Brienne repeated, leaning in closely so he could hear her over the loud conversation around them, “I want you to tell me why we’re here.” 

“At a bar?” Jaime pretended to look confused, mocking her as he started to look from the bar to the dance floor, “I know we didn’t go out that much, Brienne but if you don’t know how a bar operates––”

Brienne couldn’t help herself. She smacked Jaime on the shoulder with her purse and cursed at him, “Have you always been this incorrigible?” She sneered. 

“It’s what you love most about me.” He replied with a cocky grin. 

“ _Loved_.” Brienne snipped back, rather boldly. She wondered if he could tell she was lying even through her fierce expression. Of course she still loved him, she would always love him but now, he would always be the one who hurt her the most. A shadow fell across his face and Brienne immediately regretted her words, even though she had every right to say them. 

They were in love and had a wonderful courtage before Jaime ripped the rug out from under her and ruined everything. He claimed he couldn’t marry her, he couldn’t go against his family, his father. Even with Brienne’s father owning a successful oil business, she still wasn’t good enough for him. So she gave him back the ring, and with a broken heart wished him the best and fled. She knew she deserved more than his pathetic proclamation, but in the moment her mind was racing and breaking. She would never find someone like Jaime again. He was the love of her life. 

They had met at a ball Brienne’s father forced her to go to. She conceleded herself on an empty balcony the whole night until Jaime stumbled upon her hiding spot, claiming his reasoning being the same as hers. He asked her to dance that night, her first, and after that it was history. They had a proper courting but still one filled with surprises. She loved picking a fight with him almost as much as she loved ending them with him. She forgot how unafraid he made her. How alive. How he challenged her to see the good in him, when he never could, because she knew it was there. 

He was the one who convinced her that Galladon’s fighting wouldn’t get him killed. Jaime told her he’d try to make it to some of Galladon’s matches and give her full reports of his health. Jaime was the one who listened to her rage on and on about how her father was an absent and cold figure in her life. He let her cry on his shoulder on her mother’s death anniversary while Galladon was taking his anger out in a ring. 

She always thought they were equals. She didn’t have a problem calling him out on his bullshit and he didn’t have a problem when she did. She gave it as good as Jaime gave it to her. She never backed down from him and he usually knew when he needed to draw the line on when not to go too far with her. 

Brienne’s afraid he won’t remember to draw that line now and her heart might get broken once again. But she was prepared for it. Wasn’t she?

She looked over at Jaime after she said the bitter word that hung between them. Jaime hadn’t noticed that the bartender had served them their drinks. Her martini was placed right next to her purse, smally shifting back and forth from the vibrations of the people around the room. Jaime was looking intently into his own glass which Brienne made note was now half empty. 

Maybe _she_ crossed the line. The look in his eyes was the same sullen look the day he told her about Aerys. He was so nervous, unprepared. Not the Jaime Brienne always knew. His words came out in sentence fragments. His voice shaken when it was usually mellow. “My father forced me…” “She was screaming…” “And then he was dead…” Brienne pieced it together and just held him while he sobbed. 

She wanted to do that now but her concince was screaming at her that he did this to himself. He had no reason to be upset. He told her he had to put his family first. He ended the engagement. It was too soon. They needed time to grow. Ingrid didn’t believe a word of it but he didn’t give her any light of hope he would change his mind. 

So he didn’t need a hug right now. She did. 

“Jaime.” She said tightly, searching for his eyes. “How is being here going to help me find my brother?” 

He met Brienne’s gaze. His eyes were pleading for a moment, begging her to stop. Brienne almost mistook it for desperation but when was Jaime ever desperate? Something in her expression must have changed his mind because he quickly gripped his glass, threw back the bitter liquid and asked for another as he slammed his finished drink on the bar in front of him. The devil was back in the spark of his eye. 

“I asked around.” He said slowly. 

Brienne was impatient. She hadn’t heard a scrap of news from her brother in almost three weeks and Jaime was withholding information from her. She tugged on his jacket sleeve, “And?” 

He looked down at where she made contact with his forearm and gave her a sneaky smile, “Eager, are we, Brienne?”

She hit him again, “ _Yes_!”

He sighed, propping his elbow on the bar as he rested his chin in the palm of his hand as the bartender slid him his drink, “You might want to at least take a sip of your martini, love. It’s impolite to leave a drink bought by a gentleman untouched.”

Brienne rolled her eyes, “You're hardly a gentleman.”

“You're going to need the liquid courage,” Jaime pressed as he swirled the whiskey in his crystal glass. 

“Fine,” Brienne slipped the drink in between her two fingers and took a long sip. The martini felt cool going down. It took her away from the madness around her, letting her forget for a moment where she was and what she was doing there. Jaime was right, she did need a little liquid help but she would never tell him that. Carefully, she placed the martini back on the bar and gave Jaime a tight smile. “Are you happy now? Your turn.”

He raised his glass happily towards her, and went to take another drink. Brienne shook her head and stopped him before he could. She reached over and placed a tentative hand on his forearm to bring the drink back down to the bar, “Oh no. I mean it’s your turn to _talk_. So talk.” 

Jaime sighed but placed his glass in front of him, abiding her request, “My brother knows people in the Black Market––”

“I’m sorry,” Brienne interrupted, her eyebrows scrunched, “Black Market?” 

“You know, the Black Market,” Jaime repeated as he looked at her like she lived under a rock. When her expression remained the same, Jaime explained, “It’s how we’re here, Brienne. In an illegal bar drinking illegal booze. It’s made up of some powerful people in Kings Landing and they run the illegal proceedings of the city.”

Brienne rested a hand on her drink, twirling the rim as she proceeded his information, “And your brothers a part of it?”

Jaime leaned in close towards Brienne, resting his lips close to her ear so only she could hear him, “My brother owns the club, Brienne.”

She couldn’t help the gasp that fell from her lips. Whither it was from Jaime’s words or the goosebumps that rose on her arms from his hushed tone, she couldn’t know. 

Still, she turned to face him, wide eyed, “ _The Seven Swords_?” She asked.

“Yes.”

Brienne shook her head, her thoughts clouding her mind, “But what does the Black Market have to do with Galladon?”

Jaime winced and Brienne knew that what he needed to say he didn’t very much want to. She waited for the blow, for the words that were going to break her heart once again. 

He downed the rest of his drink for courage and sighed, “Like I said, I heard that Galladon hadn’t been around the fighting pits in a while and I asked Tyrion about it. He didn’t know much but he did say a couple of Black Marketers were thinking about betting on fighters.”

“Betting on fighters? What does that have to do with him disappearing?” Brienne asked, slowly becoming desperate.

Jaime shot his head around towards her, finally looking at her but his stare was hard. He seemed frustrated in her oblivion but she couldn’t help it. Brienne wasn’t skilled in the knowledge of an illegal society. 

“These are not nice men, Brienne.” He growled “If they are betting on people, who knows what the prize actually is. I don’t want you getting involved in this. You don’t belong down here.”

Brienne’s jaw slightly opened. He had no right to tell her what to do. She was glad she was surrounded by extremely loud music and loud people so she could properly scold him. “ _You_ don’t get to tell me what to do! You never did but _especially_ not now. My brother is missing. I don’t care if white walkers took him— I will get him back!”

She knew her words affected him when he didn’t fight her but kept his perfect teeth gritted. Gripping the edge of the bar, his knuckles turned white, “Then you're not doing it alone. You need help Brienne. I won’t send you on a suicide mission.”

“You're not sending me anywhere. I didn’t ask for your help.” She said, her voice softening as she pushed her drunk away. That wasn’t completely true.

The corners of Jaime’s mouth lifted as his elbow dug lightly into her ribs, “You were the one who called, Brienne.”

She felt her face flush as the truth settled over her. Still, she remained stubborn, “For a lead, nothing else.”

His hand fell onto her forearm, gently grazing her skin. She wanted to rip away from his touch but she couldn’t remember the last time she felt it so she allowed it to remain. She picked up her head to look at him. 

His stare was so intense she wanted to crawl inside of herself. “If you're not asking for help, I’m offering it. I know that you don’t have any reason to take it, I know I hurt you but I can’t stand by and let you do this on your own. That might be selfish but please, Brienne, you don’t know this world. I was born into it. Let me help you.”

She could say no. She could throw the rest of her drink in his face, berate him for breaking her heart and stomp out of there. But she could never do that. Not only does a part of her want to say yes so it could give her an excuse to allow her back into her life, but he was also her only lead to find her brother.

Sighing, Brienne made her decision. Grabbing his hand she squeezed it softly and she looked at him square in the eye. “Where do we begin?”


End file.
